Trap Shooting
by Desperate Derelict
Summary: Yea! Holidays are over, and I'm baaack! This is a two shot, a belated Christmas gift to all of you marvelous fanfic writers that keep me endlessly entertained, and to the fantastic readers for whom they write. Takes place in current time (post 8x08 Mr. & Mrs. Castle). Now Complete, so it's back to Killing Time and Rewriting History. Enjoy, and Happy New Year!
1. Pull !

**Disclaimer: _Characters belong to AHM and ABC Studios. Story belongs to everybody else._**

 ** _Tuesday, December 2nd - evening_**

Beckett followed the beam of her flashlight through the dank, dark passageway. She had hoped that, by now, she would have recognized something in this subterranean labyrinth under the streets of Manhattan, but none of the grimy walls or side passages had looked familiar. She approached yet another intersection of tunnels up ahead.

Her partner for the evening, following a few steps behind her, continued his whining. "Do you think there are any rats down here?"

"Of course there are rats down here. Where else would they be? What's wrong, Vikram, afraid of a few little rats?"

"A few little rats? No. A whole lot of very large rats? Definitely. How long have we been down here?"

"About five minutes more than the last time you asked." She glanced at her watch, a top of the line sports watch that Castle had given her after she'd run the half marathon. "Twenty-three minutes exactly. Don't you wear a watch?"

"No! Why should I? My phone would tell me the time, if you hadn't made me turn it off and pull the battery. Why can't you just tell me where we're going?"

Beckett illuminated the right hand corridor, then the left. Ah, finally! "No need. We're here." She strode confidently to the left, around a bend in the tunnel, up to a solid looking wall at the end of a cul-de-sac. She reversed the flashlight in her hand and pounded on the dead end three times.

A few seconds later, they heard an answering three knocks. Shortly, an opening in the wall appeared, exposing a warm and comfortable looking room. Richard Castle stood in the doorway, beaming. "Good evening. I was starting to get worried. You're late!"

Beckett stepped forward into the waiting arms of her husband. "Sorry. I needed to make absolutely sure we weren't followed."

From the dark tunnel they heard, "Kate, what the hell is going on here?"

Beckett released Castle, stepping away to allow Vikram to enter. "Oh, come on in, Vikram, and say hello to everybody."

Vikram stepped through the opening nervously. He now thought he knew what was going on, and the idea of sharing their secrets scared the hell out of him. The first thing he noticed was that the door was actually a bookshelf on hinges. He then looked around the room, stunned into silence. _Everybody_ was here. Castle and Beckett were stepping across to a small bar in the corner of the room. Detectives Esposito and Ryan were sharing a large couch with the medical examiner, Doctor Parish. Castle's daughter, Alexis, was sitting at the small bar on a stool next to Castle's sometime assistant, Hayley.

Vikram shook his head, finding his voice at last. "Captain Beckett, I strongly urge you to reconsider this …" he gestured around the room vaguely " … course of action. We will be needlessly endangering your friends here, if we haven't already put a target on their backs."

Beckett grabbed a bottle of water from a small fridge, then turned back towards her associate. "You know, ex-agent Singh, those were exactly my thoughts last week, before I was forcibly reminded of prior cases, and how keeping secrets from family and partners is a really, _really,_ bad idea."

"Yeah, well, the only thing I'm reminded of is how, the last time I shared any of this information, half a dozen people died within a day, including all of your old AG team. And, how you were shot and two crews of psychotic mercenaries tried to kill me. Pardon me for being a little concerned." His expression was a horrible mixture of worry and fright.

Esposito sat forward, pointing the top of his long neck beer towards the young man. "Dude, we've had Beckett's back since before you were chasing cheerleaders in high school. I'll be damned if I get cut out of an investigation that could be so hazardous to our boss."

"That's just it, Esposito! There CAN'T be any investigation. As soon as one word leaks out, we are all dead!"

"Vikram, it's okay." Beckett's voice was softly soothing. "We know the dangers, and we think we can come up with a plan. If, at the end of tonight, you want out, that'll be your choice. Just pull up a chair and hear us out. You want a beer?"

Vikram sighed, realizing the futility of arguing further. He nodded, and resignedly muttered. "Sure."

Castle asked "An IPA okay?" He opened a beer and handed to him. Rick then walked behind his desk and sat in his chair. "In order to reassure you of how seriously we're taking this, Vikram, let me tell you how we all arrived here. Ryan and Esposito called me and suggested drinks here, having just closed a case. They had no idea Beckett and I were looking for an opportunity to meet secretly with all of you. Lanie asked Beckett out for drinks after work, but Kate begged off, and suggested Lanie try to catch up with Ryan and Esposito here. Alexis and Hayley were out shopping, and I casually suggested they stop by here, before draining my credit card dry. You had no idea where you were going tonight. Kate and I have been waiting for an opportunity like this, where we could all meet without raising any suspicions."

"Where's here?"

Beckett answered, perched on the side of the big desk. "We are in the basement office of Castle's bar, ' _The Old Haunt'._ Everybody's phone is still upstairs, right?" At everybody's nod, she continued "Vikram is absolutely correct. If you think we're being paranoid, let me assure you: no precautions are too great. As a matter of fact, after reviewing it with Rick, it may be even worse than Vikram and I initially feared."

"I don't see how" Singh muttered morosely.

Castle took over. "Because we think you are up against more than 'LokSat'."

Singh winced at the word, as Lanie asked, "Okay, what's a 'LokSat'?"

"Let's review what we know, or think we know. Most of you know bits and pieces of this already." Beckett scooted back, now sitting completely on Castle's big desk. "Back in September, what was to be my first day as Captain at the 12th, I got a call out of the blue from then Agent Singh. He warned me with the highest alert level possible for Attorney General's agents, signaling imminent danger requiring extreme measures. I met with him, promptly had a shootout with a shadowy group of mercenaries at the abandoned theater, and another one in what should have been a secure location down in the warehouse district. Castle?"

The writer reached on his desk and switched on a smartboard. Singh groaned and covered his eyes with his hands, as Beckett pointed. "This is what started all of the problems. Based on a computer search I requested over two years ago, this memo was discovered, and sent to Vikram's Analyst desk. Since I was back here with the NYPD, he correctly forwarded it to my old partner Rachel McCord. Twenty-four hours later, her entire team had been wiped out."

"Over that? It's all redacted."

"Yes, Ryan, over that. There are two items of note. This word here, _LokSat._ At first, I thought it was a person's name, but now I'm not so sure. There's also this notation over here. _CB6384._ It turns out, these are the tail letters of a private twin engine airplane."

"That guy you two shot in the hangar over at Teterboro? I thought that was a little weird, Captain."

"Yea, Espo, it was. Especially since Castle showed up out of the blue." She rolled her eyes. "Here's some other information that none of you know anything about." She took a deep breath. "Bracken had a partner." She had to raise her voice to combat some exclamations of surprise, especially from Lanie. "We think he's a fairly high ranking member of the CIA, and has continued some of Bracken's activities, including the import and distribution of very pure Afghani heroin and wide scale murder using ex-mercenaries. We've also discovered _how_ they're getting the drugs into the country."

"So, this is STILL your Mom's case?"

"Alexis!"

"No, Rick, it's alright." Beckett turned to look at an angry Little Castle, then over at her friend Lanie, who was not-so-quietly fuming on the couch. "It IS my Mom's murder case, but it's also Rachel McCord's murder, along with all my other partners from my DC days. More than that, it's a fight for survival for Vikram and me. As Vikram pointed out so eloquently before, everybody who is known to have seen this memo, or who might possibly be pursuing any investigation along these lines, is immediately and ruthlessly eliminated."

Singh jumped up from his chair. "So, WHY are we HERE?" He started gesturing wildly. "This is insane, Kate! I know! I shared this information with other people. They were good people, and I killed them all."

"Vikram, you can't blame yourself. It wasn't your fault."

"Well, it certainly wasn't _their_ fault!" He pointed to the image of the memo. "That's like an electronic super virus, killing everybody who comes in contact with it." He looked around. "You guys have to shut down that computer RIGHT NOW!" Singh was in a total panic. "Oh, my GOD, we're all dead! If you people know what's good for you, you'll forget you saw that, and run out of here as fast as you can."

"Nobody's running anywhere, Computer Boy." Lanie glared at her long time friend. "So, that's why all the secrecy, and long hours, and your solo act; your separation from Writer Boy. Your Momma's case, again!"

"It's more than that, Lanie. Sure, some of it was my Mom's case, but alot of it was my federal training. The AG office has very strict security protocols, which they drill into you daily. You quickly learn not to share any information with anybody."

"Which is another reason we shouldn't be here." Singh looked around, and snarled "Oh, by the way, you're all under arrest for being in violation of Section 793 of the Espionage Act. I'm outa here!"

"VIKRAM!" Castle's bellow finally stopped Singh's rant. "Chill, dude. No one's arresting anybody. You're right, though. If anybody else wants to leave, now's the time." As Vikram took a step, Castle warned "Not you, Vikram. Sit down and listen, man, because we need you to answer some questions." Castle hit a key, changing the smartboard. A new image, looking like one of Beckett's murder boards, appeared; a detailed timeline prominent. "If you all look at the timeline, you'll notice some inexplicable things. For instance, how did whoever's orchestrating these events know Agent Singh sent the memo to Agent McCord? Answer: They must have hacked a secure email. So, how did they know all the people on McCord's team? That's not public knowledge, and very narrowly disseminated even within the Department of the Attorney General. That type of personnel data requires a seriously high security clearance. How did they know one of McCord's agent's was on vacation, and what club he'd be frequenting here in New York? How did they find Beckett and Singh so quickly at the theater? And, the _piece de la resistance_ , how did they find them at their hideout in the apartment over the warehouse later that night? Beckett just randomly remembered it, and had no direct association with the arrest that made the place available. She didn't even know they were going there, until the last second."

Hayley spoke for the first time in a long time, sounding a little freaked out. "The buggerers must have tracked their cell phones."

Beckett shook her head at the pretty Brit. "We both had scrambled phones at the theater, and had dumped those phones before going to the druggies' apartment. It wasn't the phones."

"You must have been followed."

"No way, Esposito." Beckett was adamant. "There was no way in hell anyone could have followed our trail."

Alexis guessed "Traffic cams?"

Beckett nodded. "Must have been."

Ryan shook his head. "How soon were they there after you arrived, boss? Ten minutes? Twelve, tops? Nobody can track someone on cams, and get a hit team in place that quickly. It isn't possible."

Castle nodded. "You're absolutely correct, Kevin. NoBODY could have responded that quickly."

They all sat quietly, thinking, before Hayley groaned. "Are you saying that there's some bloody all-seeing, all-knowing computer system, with access to NYPD and federal records, cell phone carriers, secure and encrypted internal email systems, and street camera's, that you've all managed to piss off? And, you couldn't be bothered to tell us this before you invited us into this little cabal?"

Esposito snorted in disbelief. "Really, Castle. You're blaming all this crap on ' _Big Brother'_? Come on, man!"

"Yeah, Javi. That's exactly what we think."

Ryan shook his head. "But that's not possible, is it? First of all, CIA isn't supposed to work domestically, so they shouldn't even have access to a program like that, if one existed. That would be NSA or Homeland. Secondly, there's a ton of oversight and internal security on all the fed's systems. We've had to jump through those hoops before. I can't imagine anyone having unfettered access to a system like that without, sooner or later, getting caught."

Castle stood up and moved around the desk, taking a seat right next to Beckett. They were both staring intently at Singh, as Castle explained "Here's our theory. There IS a computer system somewhere within the federal government capable of monitoring everything, and some mystery man has co-opted it for personal gain. Someone high up in the AG's office suspected something, and reached out to another agency. NSA? FBI? DoD? Who knows? Whoever it was, they sent over their best and brightest computer guy to discover who was using what. For some reason, these decision makers thought the AG's office would be the best vantage point to find and trap this mystery man. So, the AG's office pretended to hire him as an analyst, and did a half-assed job of setting up his background. But, you see, guys, we don't think the _guy_ running the program is LokSat, we think the computer program's _name_ is LokSat."

In her best interrogation voice, Beckett asked "How we doing so far, Vikram? You know, you were intent to keep everybody else off this case, and I didn't question it because, at the time, that was my goal too. I should have been more skeptical of your reasons. You didn't want Castle or my team to look too closely at you, or what you were doing."

"How do we know that he's on the side of the angels?" At his glare, Hayley threw up her palms and explained "No offense. Rather safe than sorry, and all that."

Castle answered "We thought about that, but we think he's a good guy. Vikram Singh did graduate from MIT with highest honors 5 years ago. He was recruited into government service immediately. The rest of his resume is crap, until popping up at the AG office 6 months ago. "

"And so?"

Castle looked puzzled, then grinned "Hayley, I believe the American idiom is 'So what?'"

"I could have a bloody _DPhil_ from Oxford and might still be Jack the Ripper."

"Guys, I think we can trust him, because we _have_ to trust him." Beckett grimaced. "Usually I leave the circular arguments to Castle, but here I don't think we have much choice. Plus, those two teams of assassins **were** after him, and the enemy of my enemy is usually my friend." She turned back to the young man in the chair. "Who do you work for, Vikram?"

"Kate, even if everything you said was true, you know I could never tell you that."

"Okay, then tell us this: What does LokSat stand for."

A huge sigh of resignation. "LOve Knowing Shit All the Time".

Esposito barked a laugh. "Really?"

Castle asked "Where'd it come from?"

"It was a joint effort by a team from Cal Tech and a group from MIT." He looked around, and continued in a soft voice. "I guess it doesn't matter now, 'cause we're all dead anyway. A group from Cal invented a new machine code, containing over thirty-two thousand different characters, instead of the six dozen one finds on a standard computer keyboard. It's original purpose was to improve translations between Mandarin, Cantonese, Japanese, and other pictogram languages. However, when applied to a search engine, the speeds of the searches increased exponentially. Facial recognition software, searching audio and video files … everything became unbelievably fast and accurate. The only problem with it was that it was ridiculously expensive to implement."

Vikram's expression reflected his reluctance to share his information. "At the same time, I was on an MIT team that reinvented the search engine. We were trying to create a more robust search capacity that would be smart enough to look for synonyms and similar information not listed in the search. Instead of relying on key words, the engine would search ancillary documents and data bases, and kick off secondary searches based on the information found, that would run concurrently with the main search. It was the first engine with the capability to search multiple mediums in a single pass.

Our search engine had a real time capacity, and a radically new search methodology that accessed _everything_ faster and more efficiently. Data bases, web sites, video files, audio files, images – it didn't matter. For instance, if I typed in a name, I'd get back all web articles, personal history, TV and radio mentions, recent telephone conversations, the person's latest street cam images, everything! However, it was still way too slow for commercial applications."

Alexis, who'd been following this explanation as closely as anybody, prodded the computer wizard. "Who decided to combine the two systems?"

"One of the senior engineers on our team was from Cal Tech, knew of the other study. We took our beta search engine out there, and spent a month converting it to their language. The results were … incredible."

"When did the government get involved?"

"They were there from the start. The NSA practically has a satellite office in the computer labs at both schools. Once our results were tested and verified, they swept in and put a security blanket over the whole thing." He chuckled, but with no humor in it. "The project leaders were thrilled, thinking they had hit the mother lode, that the US government was going to make them all rich. The government agents set us all up in Rockville, Maryland to perfect the system. When married with a super-computer, its potential was … terrifying."

"So, why didn't all the project leaders get rich?"

"Because they're all dead." He glanced around at the shocked expressions on everybody's faces. "Every one of the people that worked on that project, in Pasadena or in Rockville, was killed over two years ago. All within a week, along with every NSA agent we'd been working with."

Castle stared at him. "And yet, here you are."

"Vikram Singh wasn't the name I was born with, Mister Castle. The real Vikram Singh was killed by mistake, instead of me."

" _Touche_ ". Castle thought about it for a few seconds. "So, LokSat thinks you're dead. Okay, how do we beat it?"

"We don't. We need to find the person or persons directing it, and stop them."

Hayley shook her head. "No system is invulnerable. There has to be a way to take it down."

"Can't you use whatever it was that turned my top of the line office computer system into ugly statuary?"

Vikram's grin was swift in passing. "Sorry about that. And, the answer's 'No'. If we had a crystal ball and knew what LokSat was currently searching for at any given time, and we were set up at a site it was about to access and intercept the search program, we could nuke the system by following the connection's path back to its origin. The engine's bandwidth is unimaginably wide. However, there's no way to know what search they're conducting." He sighed. "It doesn't matter. We'll have the bad guys storming in here in the next five minutes to kill us all."

Castle picked up the small laptop, and reassured him. "Vikram, this computer isn't hooked up to the internet now. LokSat can't find us."

"OK, congratulations, you've delayed the inevitable. The next time you're near a Wi-Fi with that laptop, and LokSat is passing by, you're dead. It'll see your information on the memo, then run parameter searches, and find out where you've been and who you've been with, and so on and so on."

Beckett glared at him. "Vikram, stop thinking defensively! If we're going to survive this, we'll need to take the fight to them. Can you shut down this LokSat system or not?"

"Yeah, if I knew ahead of time which system, among the millions of systems out there, LokSat was going to access on any given day. It would have to be a very large system, that would take the Search engine at least a few seconds to scan. I'd have to convert the search and destroy missile program to the new machine language, which would take me a month, and it would only be temporary fix regardless. They could probably restore LokSat from back-ups and having it operational within a week." He shrugged his shoulders. "What would be the point?"

Beckett jumped up and started pacing. "Yeah, but whoever this CIA mystery man is, he'd be blind for a week."

"Beckett, what are you thinking?"

"What if we could take his eyes and ears away for a week, then hit him with a lot of problems he needed to deal with immediately? He'd have to come out from whatever rock he's hiding under, to deal with the problems."

Esposito nodded "And we'd be waiting."

His partner added "And ready."

Lanie asked 'What problems?"

"They are sneaking pure heroin into the country, a ton at a time, by using the trash containers of cruise liners. They pay off garbage truck drivers to detour to secure locations and unload the drugs, before they continue on to their landfill. If we can disrupt several shipments within his blind week, roll up the smuggling _and_ the distribution network, he'd have to address the problems personally."

Castle looked puzzled. "Several shipments?"

Singh nodded. "Yeah, Ka-, er, Captain Beckett asked me to see if there were any more timing discrepancies with the different cruise lines' garbage trucks. I found tardy garbage trucks in Miami, LA, Houston, and Cape Canaveral, all servicing the same cruise line."

Castle thought about the timing. "Most cruise liners make their home port Christmas week, many after longer than normal voyages. **That's** when you want to hit them. That'll be the most likely time to catch the smugglers in the act." He started pacing, thinking aloud. "Vikram, what if I could give you the name and physical location of a website, one with millions of files on hundreds of servers, which we _can guarantee_ LokSat will look at daily, maybe hourly? Could you set up your program to nuke it?"

"Yeah. I'd need to physically locate my laptop on a 'cutout' of the access line, whether it's a T-1 or something faster. That way, I wouldn't have to mess with whatever security the servers have, and LokSat should ignore me as it 'goes by' on the access line. Where is this huge server farm?"

"Pasadena, California." Castle continued his pacing. "It's owned by an acquaintance of mine, who owes me several favors."

"Okay, Castle, but how do we get the LokSat program to search this website?" Beckett shook her head. "I certainly don't want to be responsible for a bunch of homicidal mercs showing up on your friend's doorstep for a midnight interrogation, which seems to be their MO."

"My dear detective, have a little faith! What if I could guarantee that this super search program would access my friends' system, doing a broad sweep of the entire server farm, on a daily basis. That it would have to search hundreds of new files daily, in several different languages, in multiple locations and several different media types, and that no specific person or group could be identified to be targeted. Instead, thousands of individuals, with no connections to us or the AG or the CIA, would unwittingly volunteer to help us out. Actually, if we did this right, maybe we could give the damn thing a nervous breakdown." Castle smiled back at his nodding and grinning daughter. "Alexis?"

"Dad, are you talking about fanfiction?"

Castle beamed proudly to his assembled friends and colleagues. "I'm talking about fanfiction!"

"What the hell is fanfiction?"

Ryan turned to his partner and explained "It's a website where fans of a book or movie write their own stories about their favorite characters." His brow crinkled in puzzlement. "So, why would the LokSat program be interested in searching through these stories, Castle?"

The author reached across his desk and changed the displayed screen from the timeline back to the redacted memo. "It's obvious that there are certain keywords that the program is always looking for. It's own name, 'LokSat', is one, the tail number of the plane is another, and the name 'Bracken' is probably a third. If we can get a lot of people to write stories with these key words included, LokSat will have to check them all out."

Everyone looked at him like he'd lost his mind, with the exception of his daughter. Lanie finally spoke up. "So, Writer Boy, how do we get all these people to write these stories for us?"

"That's the easiest thing of all! Everybody here writes a story with those words, and then announce that they're entered into a contest for best story _using those keywords_. If we make the top prize five or ten thousand dollars, the word will spread like wildfire, and every wannabe novelist and screen writer will be submitting stories. I'll clear it with the founder and owner, Xing Li, through some writer support organization we'll create."

Beckett snorted. "Castle, there's no need to offer that much money. Trust me, fanfic authors would go on crazy writing sprees for a small percentage of that prize money ..." Now everybody was looking at her as if she were crazy, so she blushed while finishing softly " … or so I imagine."

Ryan sat up. "So, we all write Nikki Heat stories, somehow use these words in there, announce this big contest, and hope enough people enter the contest to keep the interest of LokSat?"

Alexis spoke up. "Kevin, as much as my Dad will deny it, Nikki Heat and Derrick Storm combined wouldn't even crack the top twenty in fanfic categories. We'd need to write in several different, and more popular, topics." She ignored her dad's noises of dismay and denial. "Harry Potter, Twilight, Lord of the Rings, Percy Jackson, and Hunger Games are all big. TV shows like Glee, Doctor Who, X Games, and Buffy are also huge. Plus, there's a weird subculture involving animated series and games, like Pokemon, Naruto, and Yu-Gi-Oh!"

Castle added "We'd also need to expand into other languages. Kate could do one in Russian, Alexis in French, and Javi in Spanish." He ignored Esposito's glare and continued. "Each one of our stories would have an invitation to enter a contest, based on originality and quality, that uses our key words. Every entry would be required to be submitted by whatever date we set to take LokSat down."

Alexis continued "I know this sounds weird guys, but trust me, this WILL work. Dad and I have been dealing with fanfic crazies since I was in kindergarten. Once word of these contests get out, they'll be all over emails, tumbler, instagram, snapchat, you name it, not to mention the other websites besides fanfiction."

"Okay, Castle, if you're sure all these other people will dump hundreds …"

"Not hundreds, Agent Singh, but thousands. Maybe tens of thousands."

Vikram shrugged at the correction., "Okay, thousands of mentions of our keywords, I still see three major areas of vulnerability. _Mortal_ vulnerabilities. The first one is how would we tap into the server farm access without _anyone_ being aware of it?"

Hayley spoke up. "How hard could it be? If it's that big, they're bound to have dedicated fiber optics entering the facility. There's all sorts of equipment we can get to piggyback on their lines that would be totally invisible. Rick, can you get me the plans of the facility?"

"Probably."

"Okay. Point two. How do you communicate with this Li guy, and run a contest through his website without it being tracked back to us?"

Castle thought for a second. "I have a charitable trust I own but have never used, registered in the Cayman Islands, that was set up by an attorney friend who has long since retired and moved away. Actually, he died a couple of years ago. Anyway, it was an exercise I did for an early Storm book. If I can have all the prize money set up through there, using an LA Attorney I'll never meet or speak to, we should be totally safe."

"Okay. Last problem. How do you guys write and upload stories with these keywords without it being tracked back to you?"

Alexis replied "I think I have a way. Vikram, if we use satellite PC's, with no Wi-Fi or internet connections, and no personal data on them, would this 'Big Brother' program be able to find us?" At Vikram's negative shake of his head, she continued. "We could write the stories using synonyms for the keywords, like 'ABC' for LokSat and 'XYZ' for Bracken, and upload our stories to new g-mail accounts we'll set up. Then, using phony logon's, we would copy and paste our stories on to the website, replace the synonyms with the real names, post the new story from an internet café or public library, then log off immediately. I can set up the g-mail and fanfiction accounts from the campus library. It shouldn't be any problem, right?"

Vikram thought about it. "Guys, you wouldn't believe how powerful this system is. To be totally safe, you'd have to delete all traces of the story from your PC, so that any later comparison would come up empty. Also, LokSat can determine your GPS coordinates if it catches you in time, so you'd better be disguised or somewhere there aren't any traffic cams."

"Oh my God, the damn thing tracks GPS? Can it track my watch?" Beckett stared at the new sports watch on her wrist, appalled.

"If it wanted to find you and knew you had that specific watch, absolutely." As Beckett removed the offending object, Vikram continued, "Now you guys know what I've been so afraid of, what we're up against. The software can easily follow any one of us through our cell phones, watches, cars, or just trace us from one traffic cam to the next. One slip up by anybody, and we are all history."

Lanie asked, "What kind of disguises works against traffic cams?"

"Low hats that hide the forehead, collars or scarves that cover the neck or lower chin, and big, dark sunglasses." Hayley looked at the ME, briefly showing her a huge grin. "Also, a huge smile buggers the facial recognition programs. That's why they never want you to smile for passport photos. Whatever you do, don't look up, and don't do anything that can be traced, like hail a numbered taxi or use a credit card."

Lanie nodded, looking resolute. "Okay. So, are we doing this, or what?"

"It all depends on whether or not Hayley can set up a trap in front of the fanfiction site, and Vikram can alter his stupid software program in time." Castle was still mad about his office computing system. "Vikram, if I get you some help, do you think you could have your program ready to shoot down LokSat in three weeks?"

"What kind of help?"

"I met a kid recently, IQ off the charts, great at IT, needs a job, and can keep his mouth shut. If it's okay with Slaughter, I think you'd find him to be a huge help. He's great at thinking out of the box."

"That kid, um, Louis?" Ryan nodded his approval. "Good choice, Castle!"

Castle turned to his wife. "So, Kate, it's your case. Do we have the green light?"

"It's not _my_ case, Castle, it's _our_ case. Yeah, unless someone has any more objections, I think this is our best shot."

"Great! I don't think we can afford to all meet together again. It's too dangerous. If you have any questions, now's the time." He looked around at his co-conspirators. "Alexis and I will get everybody a satellite laptop. We'll set them up so there's no internet capability except through email. We'll set up some dummy accounts on fanfiction and untraceable g-mail accounts for everybody, and imbed them on your computers. Once the prize money is set up, you can all start posting your stories." He looked at his assistant still sitting on a barstool. "I'll set Hayley up with the server farm plans and fly her out there so she can set the trap, and get Louis together with Vikram so they can set up the shooting software."

His wife spoke up. "I'll identify local DEA or Narcotics cops we can use in the port cities we think they'll use. I don't want to reach out to them before we take down LokSat, but we'll need to be ready to go at a moment's notice. How long do you think we'll have, Vikram?"

"A minimum of three days for them to restore the operating system and load the backup program files. It's an unbelievably complex job. Including testing, it'll be four or five days at the outside. Probably longer over the holidays."

"When do you think these ships will dock, Castle?"

"I'll double check, but normal cruise liners will make their home ports on the 23rd or 24th of December."

"Okay, so let's aim on shooting Vikram's nuke program late on the 21st or 22nd. That way, our mystery man will be blind through Christmas. Ryan, Esposito, and I will use our CI driver, Sam Mackey, to roll up the local network." She looked intently at everybody. "Listen guys, I can't tell you how much I … " she glanced at her husband and corrected " … _we_ appreciate your help. Especially after the way I screwed up _again_. I need to stress everyone's extreme caution. Even if you're just uploading a story, be extra careful. No mention of our keywords, no unnecessary risks!"

Alexis snorted her dismay at Kate's last comment, then blushed scarlet. "Oh, I'm sorry, Kate."

"No, that's okay, Alexis. You're right. I'm the person in this room most guilty of taking bad risks."

Castle turned off the computer, and stepped over to his wife. "But never again, right?" He swept her into a massive hug as she muttered an agreement and another apology. He broke the hug and said sadly "You and Vikram need to go." He looked around, and grinned at his family and friends as he opened up the hidden door. "Everyone else, drinks are on me upstairs."

After one last hug from a misty-eyed Kate, he forced a laugh. "Hey, here's something I thought I'd never say. We are going to save the world through fanfiction!"

 ** _A/N – As the intrepid author inches on to the winter ice, he's straining to hear the dreaded sound. Crack!_**


	2. BANG !

**Disclaimer: Just having fun on my neighbor's playground. Rated 'T' for** ** _in-your-window._**

 **From Chapter 1:** ** _Tuesday, December 2nd - evening_**

(Castle:) "Hey, here's something I thought I'd never say. We are going to save the world through fanfiction!"

 **December 4** **th** **, noon**

Vikram hurried into the warmth of Remy's, shaking off the chill from outside. He scanned the booths until he spied Rick Castle signaling him. He walked over as his boss's husband stood up to greet him.

"Vikram, this is Louis Prince, who I told you about." As Vikram shook the young man's hand, Castle continued the introduction. "Louis, this is Vikram Singh, an NYPD Technical Consultant." As Singh slid into the booth opposite Louis, Castle grabbed his coat off its hook. "I'll let you gentlemen alone for your discussion. Lunch is paid for, if either of you are hungry. Oh, and Vikram? Tell Kate that all the, um, carriers will be back in the US on the 23rd with the exception of the one in south Florida, which will be in Christmas Eve morning. You might want to check the schedule of the refuse haulers. Good luck, guys." With that cryptic message delivered, he turned and left.

Louis called out to him. "Thanks, Mister Castle." After the writer's acknowledging wave he asked, "So, Mister Singh, Mister Castle said you might have a job for me for the holidays?"

"Yes, Louis. First of all, please call me Vikram."

"All right."

"Secondly, I need to convert a 256 bit encryption program. Have you ever done anything like that before?"

"Yes, sir. I converted a 128 bit alarm control system to a 256 bit system earlier this year."

The waitress came by, and they swiftly placed their order, before continuing. "Well, this will be a little different. This will be a 256 bit program to a 128 byte program."

"You mean 128 bit, don't you?"

"No."

Louis stared at him, his eyebrows climbing. "Holy shi … um, wow! That's 32,768 bits!"

"Right."

"What computer has a 32K bit system?"

"A Cray XK7."

"The only one of those is in Oak Ridge, Tennessee, right?" Louis asked, his voice rising in amazement to that of a much younger boy.

Huh! Castle was right, this kid was sharp. "No, this one's a little closer to home. I can't tell you any more than that."

"Are you sure you work for the police? Am I going to get into any trouble about this?"

Vikram shook his head. "No. You can't tell anybody about this until after the first of the year, and then only if Mr Castle or I say it's safe to do so. Castle said you are applying for colleges. I can tell you, with this on your resume, I know admissions people at MIT and Cal Tech that will sit up and take notice. That is, if what we are trying to do actually works."

"What are we trying to do?"

"Scramble their operating system remotely while trashing the data files."

" _Are you Serious?"_

"Shhh! Keep your voice down! And yes, deadly serious."

"I hope you have all day to load your remote program."

Singh shook his head. "Nope. We have about as long as it takes to blink your eyes."

"Can't be done." The young man was emphatic.

"What if I told you the bandwidth was a thousand times bigger than anything you've ever seen before?"

Louis paused. "That'd help, but it's still practically impossible." He thought for a few seconds. "What's the operating system?"

"OS, written in Cray Assembler."

"Oh! That's okay then."

"Why is _that_ okay?"

"'Cause we can use the OS subroutines. We don't have to send the entire program, we can make your program self-assembling. We'll know all the dynamic addresses of everything we'll need, if not the static physical addresses."

Vikram was struck dumb, the light bulb going off inside his brain nuclear bright. "Oh my god, Louis. That's freaking brilliant. We wrestled with this monster for months, and nobody ever thought of doing that." This new idea quickly led to another. "Actually, if we use the backup – recovery subroutines the right way, we could trash the system for weeks before they figure it out!" He smiled at his clever new assistant. With his best Bogart impression he rasped "Louis, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship."

"Uhh, Mister Singh, I think you should know that I'm straight."

He snorted, then passed the young man a folded piece of paper. "Here."

"What's this?"

"The address of where you'll be working for the next three weeks. We'll start tomorrow."

"A strip club? Really? Can I hang out there after work?"

Vikram laughed out loud. He thought it might be the first time he'd actually laughed since this whole nightmare had started months ago. Maybe, subconsciously, he had more faith in this crazy plan then he'd realized. "Sadly, Louis, it's temporarily closed, but I'll tell you what. If we pull this off, when they reopen I'll buy you an annual pass. Sound good?"

"Cool!"

 **December 7** **th** **, morning**

Jonathan Zhang, full partner of McAlpin & Zhang LLP, arrived at his office in Inglewood in a bleak 'Monday Morning' mood and asked his highly prized secretary for his morning latte. He proceeded to his desk to find his mail already sorted. On top was a FedEx envelope marked 'Urgent, Requires Immediate Attention'. Sighing, he settled into his desk chair and opened the envelope. Included within was a letter outlining a writing contest for one of his client's website, accompanied by a huge check to fund the prize money, as well as an eye-popping fat retainer check made out to his firm to help administer the contest.

Lawyers aren't known for looking gift horses in the mouth, but this struck him as extremely peculiar. He fired up his computer and logged on, then executed a search for the organization _Concerned Authors' Trust - Promoting Amateur Writers (CAT-PAW)._ He could find no reference to the group, no name associated with the trust; only the Cayman Islands 2nd National Bank was listed as a trustee. As his assistant entered with his coffee, he requested her to get Xing Li on the phone for him.

Within a minute, she buzzed him with the news that Li was on the phone. He picked up his receiver with little hope of convincing his long time friend in participating in this contest. As predicted, Li refused to even consider the idea, until Zhang mentioned the name of the charitable trust.

Li laughed. "Cat-paw? They called it cat paw? Well, in that case, by all means, let's have a contest!" When asked why his sudden change of mind, Li explained "When I started this company, I was having two major problems – attracting writers that were interested in writing non-smut, and controlling the trolls that were chasing away the few good contributors I had. A group of concerned mystery writers from both coasts got together and contributed some great stories, while mercilessly chasing the trolls back into their holes. They called themselves the 'Cats-paws'. Those unknown benefactors saved my company, so if they want to have a contest, I'm all for it."

Zhang was amazed at Xing's positive reaction and whole hearted endorsement of the idea. Shrugging at his good fortune, he ironed out a few details with Li that had not been covered in the associated letter, before amicably ending the call with his friend.

He thought to himself, 'There's nothing quite like making a lot of money in the first twenty minutes of your work week to improve your mood'. Whistling, he turned back to the unopened mail.

 **December 7** **th** **, late night**

Beckett tiredly entered her crappy hotel room after a long day of paperwork. Leagues better than the room she'd had before Castle had insisted she upgrade to a 'safer' hotel, it was still lacking any of the amenities she'd grown accustomed to living at the loft. She draped her coat over a chair and kicked off her heels before flopping on the bed.

Grabbing the new laptop off of her night stand, she opened her story and reviewed what she'd written. At present, Harry, Hermione, and Ron were sheltering from a blizzard of magical proportions. They'd been on the way to a dacha outside of Saint Petersburg owned by the Death-Eater Brackenoff, who was holding Ginny Weasley captive through the forbidden LokSat spell.

Reading her work, she frowned in frustration. How was it that her husband could turn the most mundane circumstance into a magical world in which she could escape, while she was trying to describe a magical world and it was as lifeless as an autopsy report? Feeling uninspired, she switched laptops and logged on to the internet. Perhaps reading some of her competition would stimulate her writing.

She quickly found an amusing little story filled with Asian sounding names, probably written by Alexis, where a new friend named LokSat introduced everybody to a game called 'Go Bracken Go'. She next encountered a story, obviously written by Lanie, where the Woodland elf Bracken and the Lothlorien elf LokSat were going at it like rabbits. Wow! That story was just plain embarrassing, although it already had a sizable following.

She next found a curious link, which directed her to a Tumbler site. It was immediately obvious this site was dedicated exclusively to Nikki Heat stories, administered by someone named 'Alex'. _(Short for Alexis? Alexander?)_ Here she found the story ' _The Dungeons of Bracken County'_. It was written entirely in the first person from Jonathan Rook's point of view.

In the first chapter, Rook returns to New York from an overseas assignment only to find that Nikki's been missing for two days. Rifling her desk and home computer, he discovers a plea for help from an old classmate of hers in rural Kentucky. It became apparent to him that, despite Nikki's promise, she'd gone rogue again. Furious, he hopped a flight to Cincinnati, and rented a car to drive up river to Bracken County.

The second chapter describes Rook tracking Heat's investigation, always a step behind her. Nikki's friend was a teacher in a private girl's high school. Not only was her friend now missing for the past couple of days, but a couple of her prettiest upper classmen had disappeared over the last week. Researching other similar disappearances, he found a pattern of missing teen girls that stretched from Pittsburgh to Evansville Indiana.

The third chapter tells of Rook locating the captured women, trapped on a barge on the Ohio River which had been converted into a combination dungeon and brothel, and the women's subsequent rescue with the help of the FBI and state police. How Rook finds Nikki, naked and chained to a wall via a leather collar around her neck, just in the nick of time. The chapter ends with Nikki's profound apologies and Rook's angry silence.

Although the author's name was _Queen's Rook,_ it was obvious to Kate that this story was written by her husband. There may have been authors more adept at describing action sequences, or more picturesque in detailing the settings of a scene, but she'd never read anybody that touched her emotions so powerfully, or was better at depicting his character's feelings. More than that, she had learned that Castle would bravely put his own raw emotions out there on the page for the entire world to see.

The last two chapters totally changed in tone and content. Rook's love, frustration, admiration, and exasperation with Nikki were evident in the first three chapters. Though those emotions were still present, his rage over Nikki's actions took center stage in chapters four and five. He drove Nikki to a small cottage he'd rented in the county, and left her there to nap and recover while he retrieved their luggage and ran some 'errands'. He soon came back with both their suitcases and a couple of mysterious shopping bags. Upon his return, Nikki again apologized, promising him anything if he'd just give her one more chance.

Taking her at her word, he presented her with the leather collar, the same collar that had confined her on the barge. In no uncertain words, Rook told her that he was going to the kitchen and make himself a scotch to drink. If she was truly penitent, he expected her to be wearing the collar, and only the collar, when he returned.

Rook walked back into the room to find a kneeling, naked Heat with the collar encircling her thin neck, tear streaks on her cheeks. Rook grabbed the shopping bags and began removing toys and props. What followed was an exceptionally well written sequence of love gone awry, of the give and take of a healthy relationship transformed into extremely erotic bondage and submission scenes. Never did the reader doubt Rook's love for his sex slave, nor Nikki's trust in her master. It took almost two days for Rook's anger to burn out, two unforgettable days that Heat would always remember.

Oh my God! Beckett had lost her slacks and sodden panties early in Chapter four, her blouse and bra soon after. She longed for Castle's large hands and long fingers to replace her smaller ones. She'd never read anything that came close to affecting her this way. Each scene caused her blood to boil and her lungs to pant for more oxygen. Every word struck her with an almost physical blow, shouting both Castle's love for her and his anger for her poor decisions. Jesus Christ, could that man write!

She finally recovered sufficiently to walk, more than a little knock-kneed, to the bathroom for a long, cold shower. She'd been looking for inspiration online, and she'd certainly found it. Harry Potter and friends would just have to struggle with the snow storm a little longer. If the _Queen's Rook_ could write that story from Rook's point of view, then a new author, _Rook's Queen,_ could try to convey Nikki's perspective.

 **December 10** **th** **, afternoon**

Hayley Shipton was miserable. She took another huge drink of tepid water, cursing her employer and wondering out loud for the hundredth time how Rick Castle talked her into these ridiculous situations. She found herself stuck in the back room of a tiny vacant storefront she'd leased only yesterday, from the sleazy managers of this crappy shopping plaza here in Pasadena. The air conditioning was non-existent, and the room must have been over 40 degrees Celsius. She'd been wrestling with a bloody sawzall for the last two hours, trying to cut through a concrete floor with blades that were obviously defective, incapable of cutting butter much less through the world's strongest cement. She was covered in concrete dust, which was stuck to her sweaty body and clothes like some gritty caked flour. This was not what she had in mind when she thought of flying out to Californian and being covered in hot, wet sand. Her goggles continually fogged, and her breathing mask was more irritating than the screaming two year old twins she'd sat next to on the flight from New York.

Screw the budget! As soon as she had exposed the fiber optic cables beneath this floor, she was heading for an ocean front spa and a night out in Santa Monica. With a sigh, she grabbed the million pound cutting tool and resumed making a big hole in the floor.

 **December 11** **th** **, early afternoon**

Esposito waited until he was through the library's vestibule before removing his sunglasses. He walked up the steps to the second floor and wandered in and out of several rooms before finding an open terminal. He sat down and, taking the paper Alexis had given him out of his wallet, he logged on the computer as Hector Soto, Hudson University graduate student. Although he'd never admit it, he was proud of the stories he'd crafted. _Hill Charlie-Bravo 6384,_ written in both English and Spanish, described a successful firefight led by Gunnery Sergeant Hernandez of the G.I. Joes against Cobra / ISIS forces in Syria, despite overwhelming odds and a tool of a commander named Captain Bill Bracken.

Curious about the progress of the rest of the team, he did a quick search of the keywords on the fanfiction site. He immediately encountered a Glee story from Princess Lanai entitled _How I Earned My 'A' in Music Appreciation_. The description of the story arrested his attention. ' _Professor LokSat liked playing in my bush, but loved playing in my bracken.'_ More than intrigued, he started reading the short story quickly. He didn't realize he was laughing aloud until an elderly librarian came over and shushed him.

Within another paragraph, he found himself unable to contain his hysterics, bellowing guffaws as tears now streamed down his cheeks. After the old lady's second warning, Esposito printed the story for his later enjoyment before logging on as _CobraKiller_ and pasting his story on the website from his g-mail account, quickly replacing his benign words with LokSat's keywords and adding the contest particulars as an author's footnote. He then left a five word review of Lanie's story. _'Awesome, chica! Funny as shit!'_

As he picked up his print out and left the room, he noticed a few undergrads crowding around his terminal to see what he'd found to be so funny. He hurriedly took the stairs to the basement and crossed under the street to the student union. He emerged on the sidewalk opposite the library, still chuckling, just in time to see a black SUV pull up in front and half a dozen large and serious looking men pile out and rush into the library. He snapped their pictures on his phone, then laughed all the way to the subway entrance two blocks away.

 **December 14** **th** **, noon**

Lanie and Alexis walked down the busy sidewalk into the teeth of a strong breeze. The ME turned to her young friend and complained, "Alexis honey, I thought _I_ volunteered for the Hunger Games story!"

Alexis rolled her eyes, proving that she'd picked up both some bad as well as good habits from her step-mother. She looked around and, still paranoid, covered her mouth with her gloved hand before responding. "Lanie! You have to make the stories age appropriate. Hunger Games is aimed at tweens and young teens. I thought they might prefer a story of Katniss rallying a District Seven rebellion a little more than her being, um, ' _double teamed'_ by Peeta and Gale." The pink glow on the red head's cheeks was not solely from the cold wind off the Hudson River.

Lanie snorted. "Whatever. What can I say? Sex sells. Do you want to bet whose story is more popular, or generates more follow-up sequels?"

"Ew! No! Lanie, that's just … wrong. That is _so_ wrong! Just, ew!"

 **December 17** **th** **, evening**

Castle slid into the booth at The Olde Haunt, handing both Esposito and Ryan a long necked beer, and Hayley a tall Gin and Tonic. "Cheers!" They all clinked their drinks together and took a healthy swig. Castle lowered his voice and asked Hayley "How's the coast?"

"Warmer. Definitely warmer!"

"How'd it go?"

"We're ready to go, as long as the software's done in time. I'm helping those two nerds test their results tomorrow. Vikram and I should be ready to fly out there this weekend."

Ryan looked around, alarmed, before Castle reassured him "I swept the area for bugs right before you arrived. We're alright here, as long as we keep our voices down and talk while the music's playing. Have you guys figured out how to track the 'product'?"

Esposito snorted. "The product? Really? You in a 1970's movie now Castle?" He took another drink.

"Well, what do you guys call it?"

Ryan smiled. "See, Castle … we got Dragon, H, China White, Mexican Mud."

"Horse, Scag, Brown Sugar, Nod, …"

Surprisingly, Hayley interrupted Espo with "B's, Cheese, Dark, Gear, …"

They bumped fists as Ryan continued "Chiva, Tar, Snowball, Smack, Junk, …"

"Okay, okay. I don't care what you call it. How are you going to follow it?"

Ryan held up a small black piece of plastic about 2 inches square and about a half inch deep, with a small 2 inch wire coming from its center. "Well, you see, our friends in the DEA gave us about a hundred of these …"

 **December 18** **th** **, late afternoon**

As she was walking past, the Captain noticed one of her favorite detectives typing furiously, staring intently at his monitor. She paused and called to him, "Ryan!" Since there was no reaction from him whatsoever, she increased her volume. "Hey, Ryan!" Still with no apparent reaction, she turned and asked his partner. "What's he doing?"

Esposito rolled his eyes. "I'm not sure, boss, but I think it has something to do with vampires" was the reply, effectively throwing his partner under the bus.

"HEY RYAN!"

Ryan looked up, startled, his hand instantly moving to his mouse and clicking to a new screen. "Yes, Captain?"

"Please tell me you are working on those DD5's the DA's office has been begging me for since Monday."

"Uh, right away, boss." At her glare, he looked around and, seeing the bullpen was deserted, apologized. "I'm sorry, Captain, I guess I got carried away." He lowered his voice and explained "You see, after my last story update, I got over a hundred reviews! A ton of readers have been following both the story and _me,_ and I've got over 250 fans marking my story as one of their favorites. It's … exhilarating!"

Beckett leaned forward, her knuckles resting on his desk, and lowered her voice. Both detectives knew that, unlike Gates who was a screamer, when Beckett lowered her voice she was really pissed. "Well, I'm proud of you, Detective Ryan! It's not as if I didn't have enough prima donna writers around! Now I have one working for me! Let me give you some advice, James Joyce Junior. The only _review_ you need to be thinking about is the terrible one you're going to get from me if I don't have those reports on my desk in an hour." She smirked at Esposito before continuing. "I believe I'm looking at my _favorite_ dumpster diving detectives if they don't get their shit together. Do you guys _follow_ that, or do I need to spell it out more clearly?"

"No, boss."

"Got it, Captain!"

She turned away, not daring to chuckle until she had entered her office and closed the door.

 **December 20th, very late**

As the computer screen on the makeshift table lit up, he screamed "There it goes again! Damn! Castle was right, that's the third time in the last five hours." Vikram tried to stretch his back, sore from sitting on the folding metal chair since their arrival that afternoon. "Jesus, Hayley, couldn't you have found a more comfortable access point for the trap?"

"Sorry if this isn't a cushy government job, Mister Singh. How long was the search program active?"

"Two point seven seconds. The duration is getting progressively longer, as more and more stories are added to try to beat tomorrow night's deadlines." He stood up to rub his backside. "Tomorrow, we bring better chairs, this is killing my butt."

"Just pretend I'm your Colonel, and you're my raj. We'll sacrifice your ass for king and country."

"So not funny, Hayley. Right about now, I'm feeling a lot more like our freedom fighter Nataji."

"I don't think so, mate. Nataji had a backbone."

 **December 21st, just before midnight**

Beckett's burner phone finally chirped, signifying an incoming text message. She opened the message to read the word _'BANG !'_ She allowed herself to savor the moment, a huge weight lifting off her shoulders, before putting in an emergency call to the night desk at the Clerk of Courts.

"Hi. This is Captain Katherine Beckett from the one-two. We need an immediate warrant for the address I'm about to text you, both state and federal. Who's the judge on duty tonight?"

"Okay. Please tell Judge Davis if there are any questions or concerns, to call me right away."

"That's great. Thanks. You too. Bye."

She then dialed a previously memorized number, never used before. "Hi, ma'am, it's me. You wanted a warning. It's starting! Keep your eyes peeled, 'cause your friend is going to be very vulnerable soon." She hung up without waiting for an answer.

 **December 22nd, mid morning**

Beckett leaned back in her chair, and looked around the conference room. Esposito and Ryan flanked her, and across from her sat Agent De la Cruz from the DEA and Captain Tollefson from ESU. She asked, "Are we ready?"

Getting nods from everyone, she sat up and turned on the speaker phone. "This is Captain Kate Beckett of the NYPD. We're ready here in New York. Are you ready for the briefing in Dade County?"

A sultry voice, sounding very much like Sofia Vergara, answered "This is Lieutenant Consuelo Ruiz from Miami Narcotics. _Aquí_. We're set."

"Brevard County?"

"Yes ma'am. Special Agent John Malcolm and Sherriff Tom Ellis present and accounted for."

"Houston?"

"We're good here. This is Captain Sam Phillips with friends. Hell, we even have a big, tough Texas Ranger in the room."

Beckett ignored their laughter and asked. "L.A.?"

"Detective-Sergeant Kyle Seeger from Robbery Homicide. Nice to hear from you again, Beckett."

Kate smiled at the memory of the blond haired detective. "Okay. First, I apologize for the short notice, folks. As I told you, we didn't have this information for dissembling until recently." Not _exactly_ a lie.

"Here's what we know. There's an international smuggling ring that's very well connected working in each one of our jurisdictions. We know they go out of their way to insure they have informers in both the local police and various federal agencies, so security of your respective operations will be a key to your success. I've reached out to you because I already know and trust you, or you came highly recommended from somebody I know to be trustworthy.

This criminal group is huge, American based, and at least as ruthless as the worst of the cartels. They employ paramilitary mercenaries and are in collusion with people very high up in our federal government. If anyone doesn't feel up to the task, please speak up now."

"Uh, Captain? This is Sam Phillips. Are you the same Kate Beckett that took that bastard Senator Bracken down?"

"Yes, Captain, I am."

"Well, that's good enough for me."

"Me too!" from someone else on the party line.

"You sure know how to show a guy a good time!" She recognized Seeger's voice.

"Okay, folks, thanks. I'm e-mailing you now the particulars of the smuggling operations. Their smuggling methods are ingenious. They use the trash from cruise liners to smuggle their drugs, which is off loaded to a specific garbage truck with a driver they've bribed and / or threatened. The driver drops off the drugs in a safe house, where it is broken down and dispersed within minutes. Each one of you should be receiving about now the name of the cruise liner, as well as the garbage truck driver's name. Every one of us has a shipment of over a ton of pure, Afghani heroin arriving tomorrow, except for Lieutenant Ruiz. Lieutenant Ruiz, your ship won't make port until the day after tomorrow, which means they'll probably be forewarned."

"Ay, caramba! Feliz Navidad to me!" was her sardonic reply.

"How you do it is up to you, but I'd like to share our plan here in New York. We have co-opted the garbage truck driver by offering him immunity. If you want to do the same thing you'll need to be circumspect, because they are undoubtedly being watched, and the drivers' families are at risk. We got the address of their safe house from our driver, and a warrant for that address from both a state and federal judge. We will have installed surveillance equipment both inside and outside the warehouse by the end of the day, set up an observation post, and will be placing tracking devices within each ten kilo package of drugs on the ship. Tomorrow, we plan to follow the disbursement, and roll up some of the larger distributors in our area. Any packages leaving the city will be tracked and dealt with by the DEA. Questions?"

"Captain, how are you getting the tracking devices in place aboard the ship?"

"Well, Detective Seeger, since I don't want to raise any alarms and don't know anybody in the Coast Guard, I have two detectives who will board the vessel with the harbor pilot out around Ellis Island. That should give them about 45 minutes to identify and take down the crew member involved, and place the tracking devices before the ship docks."

Sherriff Ellis worried "That's not much time."

Beckett sighed. "I know, but that's the best we could come up with."

"What about using a medical flight? Fake an emergency, and bring in a fake doctor or nurse via helicopter."

"Although we can't prove it, we think the cruise line company has been compromised. We got very little cooperation from them here in New York the last time we had to deal with them. Any plan requiring the ship captain's cooperation will greatly increase your risks."

"Oh, what the hell! I'm sure with some good ol' Texas initiative we'll come up with something."

"Again, we at the NYPD apologize for such short notice. Good Luck to us all."

"Thank you Captain Beckett! Short notice or not, this is a bonanza if we can pull it off."

" _Si. Mucho Gracias, Signora Capitan._ It's not often we get a chance like this."

"Hey, Lieutenant Ruiz. Nice accent. This is Detective Javier Esposito from the NYPD. Just curious, but how many generations has your family been here in America?"

After a lengthy pause, a very Americanized voice answered "Four on my father's side, five on my mother's."

Amidst the general laughter, a voice with a Texan twang shouted, "Ole, amiga!"

On that note, amidst a lot of earnest 'Thanks' directed to the NYPD in general and Beckett in particular, the conference call ended.

 **December 23rd, mid morning**

Beckett followed the last of the vehicles leaving the warehouse through the binoculars. Double checking her computer screen, it seemed like all the tracking devices were working correctly. She stepped away from the window when she heard a commotion outside the room; uniformed officers apparently yucking it up over something they found amusing. Angered at the breach in protocol and possible operational security, she started for the door, only to see Ryan and Esposito walk in, looking very much the worse for wear.

As soon as they entered the room, she was forced to clap her hand over her nose and mouth. "Oh my God! What is that awful stench?"

"Well, you see, Captain, Ryan and I didn't have enough time to place all the tracking devices in the drug packages on the ship."

"Yeah, even though Esposito did a great take down of the crewmember when we found him, he kept us running all around the ship for the longest time."

"So, with time running out, our only alternative was to ride with the drugs in the back of the garbage truck to finish placing all the trackers."

"Yeah, but then, when we got to the warehouse, we had to kind of hide amidst all the garbage when they were offloading the drugs, so they wouldn't see us."

"Right, the drugs with all our recently placed trackers. After Sam pulled out of the warehouse, it took about ten minutes for the him to hear us and let us out."

"He pealed out of the warehouse as fast as he could, probably scared shitless, and took a couple of nasty turns, so the garbage got tossed around. Actually, we did too."

"So, Captain, is everything going to plan?"

During their entire shared spiel, Beckett had been trying to back away from them and the odorous assault on her nostrils, but they kept following her around the room like they were attached by an invisible string. She finally had to throw up a palm and yell "Freeze!" It was either throw up her hand or throw up her breakfast.

"Stay right there. Don't move." She retreated back to the window to retrieve her laptop and binoculars. "Good job, guys. It looks like they broke down the shipment into five segments. One's going south to Jersey, and one north, to Connecticut or Boston. The feds are all over those. The other three are staying here – Brooklyn, Uptown, and maybe Hell's Kitchen. They're all being covered by choppers and multiple unmarked cars."

"Where do you want us, Captain?"

"Under the nearest shower …." She looked closely at Ryan from across the room " ... or maybe in a flea dip. Call me when you get cleaned up, and I'll direct you each to a different site. Local precincts and ESU will handle the takedown, but this is still the 12th's operation. Just, give me a minute's head start."

She took a huge breath near the window and, holding it, scurried past them and fled the room.

"You know, partner, Jenny and I have been talking about taking a cruise someday. I gotta tell ya', after today, it's lost some of its allure."

"I hear you partner." The two detectives exited the room, the uniforms still left at the observation post giving them a wide berth.

 **December 24th, early afternoon**

"Captain Beckett, the next time you're in Texas, please look me up. I'd like to buy you a Texas sized steak and a couple of beers."

"That goes double for us here in Northern Florida. We feel like we just won the Super Bowl, so it's natural to want to take you to Disney World."

Beckett could hear Seeger's laughter from LA. "Gentlemen, having been visited by Captain Beckett in the past, I can only say 'be careful what you ask for'. That being said, next time you and your writer husband are in Southern California, please look me up."

"Forget your husband, Capitan, come down to South Beach and I'll show you a great time."

Esposito spoke up. "Does that invitation extend to me, Lieutenant Ruiz?"

"It depends, Detective Esposito. From what I just heard, you might want to take a few more showers before we let you sample our night life."

Beckett tried to get back on track. "I have to ask. Did anybody lose anyone? We ended up with two wounded, one serious."

"We had a Ranger shot in the ass, but if you'd ever met the man, you'd know that it's probably an improvement."

"We were lucky and got the drop on everybody. Unfortunately, I heard that the DEA had one seriously wounded up in Atlanta."

Ruiz's somber voice cut through their joy. "We lost one. A good young man, two years on the job. Officer Eric Rowe. No family, Gracias A Dios. Please remember him and his parents in your prayers. That being said, we rolled up three of our most notorious gangs, who've been terrorizing their neighborhoods for years. It's never an even exchange, but he didn't die in vain."

"Lieutenant, did you get the snake that shot him."

"Oh, si, Sherriff. Our morgue is very busy right now. Many people will sleep better tonight after today's work."

"Okay, folks. On behalf of the NYPD, thank you for believing in us, and following through so professionally. Lieutenant Ruiz, please send me Officer Rowe's particulars, and his funeral date. If possible, I'd like to send a representative, and many others on this call probably will too. I think we should probably schedule another call before the end of the year to compare notes after our interrogations are complete. Until then, Merry Christmas, and thanks again."

A cascade of goodbyes ended the call, and Stage One of their mission to bring down Bracken's partner was complete.

 **December 28th, early morning**

"Good morning, Captain."

"Oh, hi, Rita. What are you doing outside my hotel so early in the morning?"

"I just needed to tell you a couple of things before you got into the office today. The first will probably be on the news tonight. It seems that the Deputy DDI of the CIA, the Assistant to the CIO of the GAO, and three of their assistants were lost when their G-5 went down over the Atlantic. A true tragedy."

"Three assistants? Was this collateral damage?"

"No, it was more in line with putting all of one's rotten eggs in one basket, then dropping the basket. Miraculously, both the pilot and the plane's stewardess parachuted to safety. Fortunately for them, there was a US naval frigate that just _happened_ to be in the area, which picked them up immediately. They got off with a slight case of hypothermia, which they should shake off shortly." She punctuated this last statement with a loud sneeze.

"God Bless You. That's one thing, you said there were two?"

"Yes. Go home, Kate. As we say in my business, it's time for you to come in from the cold. Mission accomplished. There's nothing more you can do for Agent McCord and the rest of your old team. Let the dead bury the dead. Go home to your husband and step-daughter."

Beckett nodded in agreement. "Nice seeing you again, Rita. Don't be a stranger."

"Oh, and Kate, one more thing. My husband was visibly upset that you involved his son and, more importantly, his granddaughter, in such a dangerous operation. You were luckier that you could possibly know."

"Well, perhaps, he … and you … could be more a part of our lives going forward. As nice as it is having unseen guardian angels, it's nicer still to have actual grandparents around. Maybe it's time for both of you to come in from the cold, too."

Rita sneezed again, then wiped her nose with a tissue. "Perhaps you're right, dear. Perhaps you're right." She turned and walked away down the sidewalk.

 **December 28th, evening**

"Beckett! What are you doing here?"

"Can I come in, Rick?"

Castle stepped aside and Beckett entered, carrying a misshapen wrapped gift and wheeling her suitcase behind her. She stopped in the foyer and kicked off her shoes, but kept her warm overcoat on.

"To what do I owe this pleasure, Captain?"

Beckett winced at the formality of his words. She had a lot of work to do to repair the damage she'd done. "Is Alexis still skiing, and Martha still traveling?"

"Yes, Alexis will be back day after tomorrow, Mother on New Year's Eve? What's going on, Kate?"

"Here, Rick. This is for you." She handed the wrapped gift to her husband with trembling fingers.

Castle's voice was hurt and angry. "It's no longer Christmas, Beckett. You missed it. _WE_ missed it."

"I know, Castle. It's not a Christmas gift."

Castle sighed and relented, like he felt his wife always forced him to. He stopped and, one hand holding the underside of the package, tore open the top of the wrapping paper. He looked quizzically at what was inside the paper, then looked a question at Kate.

She tenderly reached out and took the present from his still hands. She fastened the leather collar Castle had just unwrapped around her graceful neck, then handed the end of the chain to Castle. The end not clipped to her collar. She then unbuttoned her long woolen coat, one button after the other, and threw it to the side.

Now completely nude, she knelt down on the area rug beneath her. Her eyes brimming with tears, she looked up at her awestruck husband. "I am so, so sorry, Castle. God, you must be so tired of me saying that, but it doesn't make it any less true. I screwed up … _again_. I hurt you … _again_. I endangered us, as a couple … _again_!

I don't deserve you. I never have. But I need you. I need you more than a flower needs sunlight, more than a fish needs the sea, more than Nikki needs Rook. I am not complete without you. The best part of me, the parts of me that my mother would be most proud of, are only with me when I'm with you."

Her tears now overflowed, running her mascara down her cheek as she continued to look up at Castle's stoic face. "Like Nikki, I'll promise you anything if you'll just give me one more chance. Anything! Just one more chance, Castle. I don't deserve it. You shouldn't have to be asked to provide it. But I'll die without it." She continued to stare at her husband, her whole life in the balance of the next few seconds.

Castle took a huge breath in, and blew it out slowly. Then, without a word, he turned away from Kate, and began to walk away. He only took a couple of steps, however. Since he'd never let go of the leash, he had to stop when it drew taut. He turned to look at his wife from over his shoulder, still with no expression, and tugged on the chain. He waited until she regained her feet, before turning and leading her through the office into the bedroom.

 **December 30th, afternoon**

Kate unlocked the door and scrambled into the loft, juggling two full bags of groceries and her purse. She kicked the door closed with her boot, before looking up and seeing Alexis on the couch pouring over a bunch of papers. She flashed her a huge grin and a greeting. "Hi, Alexis!"

"Hi, Kate. You need some help?"

"No, I've got it." As she lugged the groceries towards the kitchen, she exclaimed "Welcome back! How was Vermont?"

Alexis was less than enthusiastic. "Oh, it was alright, I guess."

"Uh oh! What happened?"

"Well, of the eight of us, one was pretty much a beginner skier, and four others had done most of their skiing out west in Colorado and Utah. They had no idea what the edges on their skis were for, or how to use them. Before Wednesday night, Vermont hadn't had a decent snowfall in a couple of weeks, so it was pretty icy. They basically spent the first three days of our ski trip falling down the mountain. We ended up with one girl with torn knee ligaments, another with a broken wrist, another with a broken collar bone, and a fourth with a broken heart."

Beckett couldn't help but chuckle. "Is everybody going to be okay?"

"Yeah. Allison came home early, and had her knee scoped yesterday. Taylor had her arm in a sling the last three days, and had guys buying her drinks from about noon until the bars closed. Cory is hardcore; had a splint put on her wrist, and is still up there skiing. And Lauren is a drama queen, but is better off without her cheating douche bag of a boyfriend."

Beckett turned from putting away groceries to see Rick emerge from his study. She couldn't help asking "So, didn't anyone of you find love on the alpine slopes?"

Alexis actually blew a raspberry. "Thpppthpp! The guys up there were as bad as the guys at Columbia. They all think they're God's gift to women, entitled to a fun romp with a snow bunny. Fricking Millennials!"

Castle asked "So, Alexis, you didn't find love by the romantic fires of Killington?"

She turned to look at her Dad. "Not that I'd tell you!" Alexis spun around to look at Kate, still struggling to put away the groceries. "Hey, Kate, are you sure you don't need any help?"

"No, really, I'm fine!" Her brow crinkled in puzzlement. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, speaking of injuries, you're moving kind of funny, like you're really stiff, or something. Did you get hurt?"

Beckett locked eyes with Castle's. "Well, actually, I did screw up, but I think I'm fine now. I wasn't paying attention to what I should have been doing, and I messed myself up. I pretty much fell down on the job. I've been sore all over for a couple of days, but hopefully I'll be better now." Again, it wasn't _exactly_ a lie.

Castle asked, "What are you working on, Alexis?"

"Oh, these are the results of the fanfic contests that those idiot LA lawyers sent us." Her dismay in their conclusions was readily apparent. "They pretty much awarded the prizes to those stories based on comments and statistics for those that the most people read, regardless of the relative merits of the writing."

Castle laughed out loud, then swooped in with his large arms and hugged his daughter. "Oh, Pumpkin, critics and fans can be fickle and obtuse, and luck is just as important as talent. Welcome to my world!"

"No, Dad, this is different. This isn't fair. Who cares if a bunch of stupid family members and friends comment on a story? It should be judged on the quality of its plot and character development and story arcs, not because a bunch of ignorant idiots decided they liked the title!"

Kate asked from the kitchen, "Did any of our friends win?"

"Nobody except Dad. Lanie got third place for her story on Glee." Alexis shuddered, making it clear what she thought of Lanie's writing. "Kevin got second on his Twilight story, which is strange because it's not even close to being complete. The thing's already about 90,000 words long."

"Really? Ryan? Ninety thousand words is the equivalent of a 300 page novel." Castle looked over to the kitchen. "You mustn't be working him hard enough."

"Apparently not. So, Alexis, in what categories did our pet writer win?"

"Pet? That sounds much too docile for a virile man of my rugged handsomeness."

"Whatever you say, Kitten."

"Oh, ew, guys, get a room. Enough with the eye sex. Let's see. Dad won 1st place with his stories about _Doctor Who_ and _House_ , and took 2nd on his _X Files_ story."

"Second, really? I was proud of that story."

"Oh, Dad, don't worry about it. Critics and fans can be fickle and obtuse, and luck is just as important as talent. Welcome to my world!" _She_ smiled at throwing his own words back at him, then reached for a piece of paper, her brow crinkling in puzzlement. "Something strange, though … "

"What's that, Alexis?"

"Well, we guessed ahead of time that writers were going to try to sneak in and compete in the contest in some of the lesser categories, and the fanfiction site did a good job of pulling those stories that were on _General Hospital_ and _American Horror Story_ and any others we hadn't agreed to. But, when we discussed this, we also agreed to avoid Nikki Heat and Derrick Storm, 'cause we thought it was a little too close to home. However, it looks like the contest started on a Nikki Heat tumbler site, and the fanfiction people picked it up. So, our prize money should be short $850 for the new category.

The trouble is, the grand prize of a thousand dollars for best story overall regardless of category was won by the winning Nikki Heat writer, and we have no idea who it is or how to get a hold of him."

"What story was that, Pumpkin?"

"Something called ' _Nikki's Multiple Releases and Ultimate Liberation; A Bracken County Story'_ by Rook's Queen.

"Huh! Sounds … inspiring! Don't worry about it, honey. I'm sure the author will eventually step up and confess, if she hasn't already done so. I'll be more than happy to … _cove_ r the author, as much as I have to."

She glanced at her grinning husband, and for the first time in months, she saw that sparkle in his cobalt eyes. That little gleam, that so reminded her of his 'bad boy' days their first few years, when he didn't seem to have a care in the world, and it hit her like a thunderbolt. _They're_ going to be okay. _Everything_ was going to be okay. Her relief was palpable, her smile blinding.

Rook had saved Nikki again.

 ** _\- Finis_** -

 ** _A/N – Please! If you have any reaction to the story – good, bad, or indifferent – type a word or two in the box and click 'Post'. Reviews are my motivation, regardless of what Beckett thinks. Thanks for reading, and have a great 2016!_**


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